Love
by SophiaL17
Summary: Love knows many forms. Severus Snape reveals what he has experienced, has seen, and gives his opinion.
1. Chapter 1

My fifth class, and the fifth time this is happening today.

I don't even have to raise me head. I hear the shuffles of papers being transported in clumsy, ineffective methods, I feel the absent minds, not focusing on their current assignment – luckily, a relatively harmless potion, this time – and I know that, if I prowl around the small students, that my nose will be brutally assaulted by the reeking scents of perfumes. They obviously do not know the meaning of exaggeration.

That particular organ has already met more than enough fragrances for one day, and so, I remain seated and decide to only use my eyes as the main supervisor.

It seems that I am just as quickly distracted as the third years. Noon is almost ending.

One glance, even from this distance, and I see who is affected, and who innocently remains in their isolated, safe world, a world which will have been changed, by the time they enter their final year.

This class is one of the few in which the genders are balanced. A perfect control-group for the other four classes.

Girls seem to be mainly influenced... or the boys are more talented in hiding their true emotions.

This is not the perfect environment, since I've made it very clear that I only accept sound when absolutely needed, and most are undoubtedly already hiding or repressing most of their thoughts and actions in front of me, but it seems wasted to abort this small examination. I also have no other pressing matter to attend, at this moment.

A girl in the middle left row reads a crumpled, small paper and her cheeks turn red. She quickly flips it over, scribbles and clumsily sends it back to the male sender. His head does not mirror her's, but he does show a cocky smile, turns his face to the girl, and dramatically winks. I roll my eyes.

Two rows to the right, I zoom in on a girl and boy, working together. Their hands are lingering, longer than needed, on whatever part of the body they can find, particularly the arms, hands and middle. Both mouths are open, no doubt whispering nonsense to each other.

Two tables below the distracted couple is a boy, ever now and then peeking to his left, trying to get a girl's attention. Fifty nine minutes he's already trying, and fifty nine minutes, he's failed.

I've seen countless heads, minds and intelligence grow – but the last mentioned seems to be forever missing by some, even long after our final, shared glance – each into a different result, but what most have in common is their ability to show the same behaviour, some from year one to year seven, others starting at a later year.

Each face, new or changed, focuses on a different target, ignoring their last acquisition, restarting the process again, restarting their crusade, for absolute bliss. It will always fail, but the mind has somehow find a way to ignore this _tiny _detail, and not learn from past mistakes.

I don't understand this. I never will. I can examine their mind, something he has repeatedly prohibited me from. But even if I have permission, I'll only hear chaos, see idiotic, valueless images, and feel nonsense. Very unlike my own, past youth.

I can't seem to stop wondering whether my peers had demonstrated the same... problems. I wasn't always attentive of them, but I do remember that I would occasionally see couples in the hallways, outside on the grass, in the common room or even worse: in class.

Each, passing year, I saw sad, lone faces, staring mindlessly at the ground, or eagerly wobbling their head in all directions, but also satisfied, twin faces, their expression mirroring each other.

It seems that the general population of every generation fall victim to this.

* * *

><p>I still don't understand why the Headmaster has applied this rule that each student is allowed to take with them, a cat, a toad, or an owl. A select few, the rare, intelligent breed, respect this rule, but the common, idiotic ones interpret this by taking all three of them.<p>

More joy for the students. More irritable teachers. One person ready to snap.

I understand that owls are a necessity, but a toad? I remember that I've last used different parts of multiple toads as ingredients for a potion.

I can barely withstand the thought to add that one as a requirement for all students. I can already imagine the shocked, terrified expression on their young faces when reading the ingredient list.

Teachers are also allowed to have enjoyments...

I don't understand how one can bond with an animal, destined to end in strangely coloured liquids. Dead. Or alive.

An owl is only suitable for one purpose: sending messages. I comment the record times of some, but I prefer quicker, safer and more convenient methods: the hearth or a Patronus. Also, some have sight problems.

Looking back, I notice that I am still being followed by that pesky thing. She... or he, I haven't checked their gender, but this persistence must be caused by a she, has been trailing me for a few days now. When I open the door in the morning, she is sitting in a corner, already gazing at my direction. When I open and close the door in the afternoon, she takes my vacant spot and makes all kind of noises and movements. When I close the door in the evening, I usually find her lying on the ground, one eye opened to lazily follow my form.

This had happened a week ago. Starting from a few days ago, she had decided to not only passively watch me, but also accompany me wherever I go. It can lead to quite bothersome situations. It is that my self-control has not wavered, because it _may_ occur that the Squib will find a butchered, cold corpse soon.

This is not a stray animal. Her body is well-fed, and her manners are civilised, as civilised an animal can be. That only leads to the conclusion that an idiotic student cannot even complete one simple task, and has lost their pet.

The face of a very clumsy, and hopeless case appeared. He fits perfectly in the description, but I recall seeing him holding a giant toad in his hands once. I wonder whether that poor body is still fully intact: he must have fallen countless times from those sloppy hands.

She's trying to communicate with me, again. I've heard this sound countless times now. I still abhor it.

She doesn't think I understand her, judging from these persisting sounds. I _do _understand, but I've decided to ignore her. The simplest, uncomplicated way, for I know this... situation will dramatically worsen if I surrender now.

It will do her, and I, no good. If we're seen together, and he will discover, I must hear that amused, slightly smug voice for many days. Not to mention his accomplice, her bothersome presence bothering him even more. That will not do me good, and that will mean a horrible fate for you, if I haven't poisoned you already to a point beyond recovery, with my... lacking abilities and... unsuitable behaviours.

Swift, soft footsteps. Students, searching students.

I quickly conceal myself, knowing reluctantly that I will soon feel a cool, frozen pressure against my legs and a soft tail wrapping around my ankle. What _will_ irritate me more than this... attachment is that each head will look even more ridiculously at me, tomorrow. The relative peace and silence that I've easily created in my classroom, will just as easily be destroyed. Not to mention my reputation.

"Are you sure you've heard it?"

"_Yes! _I can recognise her voice easily._" _

A small girl pivots, and searches an area she's already examined. A first, or second year.

"Maybe you've confused it with something else..."

"No! I know she's here: I can _feel _it."

I swiftly move my eyes upwards, a movement regularly started by persons such as her.

When I focus them on the two, new presences, I see they're standing quite close to me, their backs visible.

"I don't understand!"

"Maybe... maybe you've just, you know, heard it wrong?"

"I know I've been wrong many, many times, but I just _know _I'm correct this time!"

She wildly gestures her hands and turns her body around, walking towards me.

A second year... Hufflepuff, I think. Her name... I do not remember.

That familiar noise again, and a moment later, a burst forward, almost dragging me away from the safe place, and into a predicament.

A surprised cry, followed by a happy yell. The small weight against her small body purrs. No doubt because her body is slowly breaking...

A word is repeated over and over again now... wait, it's a name. A very curious, unsuitable name, in my opinion.

"You've scared me, did you know that? I thought I've lost you forever!"

Such a dramatic presence, she is...

"Yes, yes, you've found her. Now, can we _finally _go now?"

"Why are you being so cold? I've almost lost her: the only one who means _everything _to me."

I roll my eyes again, and hear departing, clicking sounds on hard stones.

"Sure she is..."

I can't agree more with her friend's whispered comment.

* * *

><p><em>The first chapter of a brand new story, and my first attempt to write something light-hearted. I've never thought that<em> _I would ever explore this road, and haven't known that writing this __different genre __c__an__ be __a __fun __thing to do__. I hope you've enjoyed this, so far. I certainly enjoyed writing it, it's a welcoming change from the usual. _

_A small warning. The cheerful nature of this chapter isn't representative to some future __ones__. Each chapter can be read as an one-shot __(as I try to make each chapter focus on a different 'form' of love)__, but minor details can cause a small frown, and details from previous chapters can be further explained, or used, in __present chapters.__I__f you want to enjoy the whole story (for there _is _a story in this one), I recommend reading the whole thing. _

_One more thing: I will not name the chapters, because that will most likely tell what the chapter is going to be about. _

_This is currently rated T, but it will definitely change into M. Keep this in mind, __too,__ before you decide to read further. _Which _kind of situations are rated M in this story, will remain __a mystery __for now. I don't want to spoil them, but if you want absolute clarity, make your request known to me and I will try to answer as best as I can._


	2. Chapter 2

It comes not as a shock that the two persons sitting to his left are more than colleagues. Age can be an important factor, and both are counted in the small group of the elder ones. They have known each other very long. I've heard her saying to me once that he had taught her her present speciality, when she was a Hogwarts' student. She has been a teacher for at least forty years now.

From my eye corner, I notice that she's lifting away the last mouthful from his plate with her fork, and quickly finds the way to her mouth. He comments, she responds. He deflects, she attacks. He attacks, she deflects. A friendly fight, not uncommon. The contents of their goblets share the same colour, and I smell ethanol whenever the closest one is raised.

I ignore this, but I quicken the chewing movements, staring down at my half-empty plate. Too much food, and not enough time left.

A fork nimbly spears a cut piece of meat, quickly travelling away from my plate. Having already foreseen this, but knowing that nothing can be done to stop this action, I glare at the guilty one.

He subtly points towards his left side, earning another glare, this one just as harmless as mine, plus a quick eye roll.

"You should eat faster, dear boy, if you want me to stop: my plates is always empty before yours... because yours is never empty."

I sigh, another activity he loves to do in this setting: repeating comments.

"If that is your subtle hint for wanting my plate, Headmaster, you can just plainly ask."

"Oh no, my boy. I wouldn't want to be the cause for you tiptoeing sneakily at night to the kitchen for a midnight snack."

I shake my head and refocus my attention on my plate, my ears hearing combined, soft laughter.

* * *

><p>It seems very impossible now, that I've once questioned the nature of their relationship. I was new, in that period, and needed time to adjust to my new position. I still felt that I was an old student, and not a teacher, in front of the many familiar, adults faces.<p>

Even then, they had displayed this kind of behaviour. It was difficult not to notice, especially when I was trained to be able to accurately observe many things in little time. Their actions indicated a familiarity, the bond running deeper than formal friends, or casual colleagues.

The thought of the obvious answer, a long lasting friendship, hadn't crossed my mind, so puzzled, absorbed, and slightly intrigued was I.

It had taken quite a while before I was comfortable enough to ask the floating question.

"Headmaster–"

"Albus."

"Yes... Albus. I have an... odd question."

"Oh?"

"Yes... there is no need for you to answer if you don't want to..."

"Oh, I will not soon lose my balance, Severus. You may ask whatever you want, and I will do my very best to answer as best as I can."

"All right... I was just wondering... I've noticed that you and Professor McGonagall-"

"You mean Minerva."

Before I could continue, he added another comment.

"Severus, there is no need for you to be so formal. You are a Professor too, now. An equal."

"Of course..."

"I mean it, Severus."

"I understand."

Well, technically, I did not understand.

Do I understand it now, I wonder?

"You and Minerva... what kind of... relationship are you two... sharing?"

"What do you think, Severus?"

"Well... I am not sure, hence my question."

"I understand. But, judging by your tone, and your perceptive abilities, I think you've already formed an idea."

"Are you... close friends?"

A nod.

"Closer than close friends?"

A small smile appeared on his face, a smile I'd rarely seen. The meaning of it was unknown to me, then. I did not know whether he was confirming it, thus, I dared another step.

"Perhaps... even... each other's beloved?"

I heard a chuckle, and the twinkle in the blue eyes were twinkling ridiculously. He rested his chin on the palm of his hand.

"Do we make that impression?"

It is an irritating thing, answering a question with a question. But also a sign that Albus is enjoying himself immensely. Unfortunately, this knowledge is not old.

"Well..."

Another chuckle, more deeper and longer. This behaviour had been making me uncomfortable, for I knew that I had said something foolish, idiotic. The problem was, I did not know what.

"Severus, what do you think of your colleagues?"

A strange question to ask.

"I have nothing to complain."

The smile on his face faded, and his stare gained a piercing quality. He seemed to be searching for something. At that time, I absurdly thought that he was attempting to gain access to my mind, and swiftly materialised my defences. He commented not, but I was, and am still certain that my action hadn't passed unnoticed.

"This is a surprise, even to myself. I've always thought that it is widely known here, given the nature of its inhabitants."

His blue eyes twinkled again.

"I like women very much – you've already seen that – but... perhaps not in the direction your mind is facing."

This was one of the rare moments where my face had a puzzling expression for such a long period.

"What do you..."

Then, my mind turned around.

"You mean..."

A straight answer, this time: a nod.

"I... I'm sorry, I didn't–"

"'Tis okay. I'm very flattered, actually. It's a great compliment to hear this, and solid evidence for the firmness of our bond, the result after years and years of companionship."

"And Minerva?"

I would rarely be this pressing, this talkative. I wonder what had caused this... the subject, perhaps?

"She has known this a very long time now. And even if my interest was... suitable, I don't think taking _that _step would do both of us any good."

"...Why?"

"We are alike, but in some... intimate areas and thoughts, we differ too much from each other."

He hadn't elaborated. I sensed that this was only a superficial reason. Even if my mind had not halted me, I wouldn't have found the boldness and resolution to continue. It would take many, many more months until I've finally found the full answer.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Rated M for mature, suggestive actions.**_

_The very first chapter which is rated M. More chapters will have this, too, but not all (only the chapters where I'll put a 'warning' at the beginning). _

_Once again, skip this chapter (and the future, rated ones) if it makes you uncomfortable. _

* * *

><p>This is one of the many reasons why I'll parry every attempt to lure me to a road, such as this one: filled with open, artificially bright windows, men and women of every age, class and company, and far too much noise – laughter, loud conversations, jesting. Every corner I look, I see nonsense, lies and hypocrisy.<p>

I quickly turn to the right. The path is much smaller, darker and less crowded here. This suits my taste much better.

The road ends too quickly and I'm facing another broad street. Fortunately, this one is unlike the predecessor. I don't have to gaze down to see smiling lips, don't have to mentally shield my eyes from the assault of rainbow colours. I do hear sounds: mainly of women, occasionally a man.

I glance to a hidden, shaded corner and see a couple, the woman uncomfortably pressed against the wall, the male continuously pushing against her. The unsightly noise from both mouths and the meaning of this picture make me grimace. I quickly avert my head and hasten my march, gritting my teeth to stop the rising, foul taste.

The grimace deepens. I must have taken a wrong turn. A critical mistake for someone who needs to understand their environment very precisely, where a tiny mistake can carry with it the most negative consequences.

I only see women, now. No men. But even if I see one, my interest will not be raised.

My skills are temporary crippled. No surprise, since my mind is constantly wandering to a certain direction. A direction, always ending in _him_.

An even worse thing: it is not unwanted. Not completely. Time does curious things to a person. I've caught myself more than several times now, starting this... process myself.

I glance to the left side, and see a body, parts of flesh very visible, even from this safe distance. A hand is gesturing to me to come closer. Fingers pry open the loose material surrounding her legs, exposing her thighs. Without... examining her further – not even certain parts which are famously appraised by most, but certainly not every one – I change my focus to the stained path in front of me, biting my tongue to ignore the invasion of that undesired taste.

_Disgusting._

Why does no one take a small second to cast a spell, dampening or silencing any sound? I can hear flutters of noise through every new window I pass.

I distract my mind with a well-known presence, delving through recent memories. This manner will absorb less energy than forcefully repressing the impulses from the eyes and ears. And nose: the air reeks of sinfulness and perversion.

But touch is difficult to ignore. It is almost impossible to ignore.

A hand on my shoulder halts my brusque steps. My body doesn't react swiftly, violently: another result caused by him, with the aid of time and familiarity. My response is slower than normal, but still too quick for the intruder.

I turn and push the invader back against the wall, further than I've planned to. A physically weak opponent. My wand makes a slight dip on stretched skin, and my left hand touches bare flesh. The intense smell of perfume reaches my nose.

"Calm down, dear!" a voice yelled, the words stained by pure surprise.

She tries to push the slender object away, but I quickly seize her bare, thin wrist.

"So aggressive..." she says. The amazement and shock have disappeared from her voice.

She's likely not a threat to me, but one can never be careful enough. I grasp her chin between thumb and forefinger, already darkened by a rainbow of colour, and stare deep into her defenceless eyes.

_I am correct._

I halt the abuse on the skin, quickly release her fingers and give her body space. Nothing threatening has been found, but I've seen what she's trying to accomplish, what she's thinking. It's best to turn around and walk away: I've already wasted too much time by taking the wrong way. I have no need for more annoyance and trouble.

As expected, she doesn't agree with my retreat. She grips my arm and latches onto the limp limb.

"Wait!" she quickly yelled.

The clutch tightens to a painful ache, and she undoes the distance I've created.

"Why are you in such a rush?"

I feel fingers moving to my shoulder, continuously jabbing new patches of clothing.

"You seem tense."

Her hand is wandering down, searching and examining, judging by the pressure and movements.

"I can help you relax," she whispers now, with a hint of enticement.

I should have stopped now, but somehow, this person has raised my curiosity. But what has caused this, I do not know: this invisible air surrounding her, perhaps her face, perhaps her eyes...

"Will you allow me?" she asks, the hushed words pulsing with excitement.

The fingers have almost reached their destination. Perhaps a few minutes can be used. I want to know if she does what I have discovered, hidden behind her forehead. I want to see her reaction, following mine.

"What makes you think I am interested?" I almost innocently ask.

"_Everyone _is interested in this," she swiftly answers. She seems very convinced of her own words. It doesn't surprise me: her presence does have a... fascinating air. Every pair of eyes will stop what they are gazing at, to closely examine her. If she opens her mouth, countless ears will only hear her words, her breathing. And that pair of eyes...

I can barely contain a smirk. She frowns, but quickly recovers by moving closer, her hand applying more pressure.

"Are they?" I ask again, a small timbre of humour visible for her to hear.

"_Yes." _

She's inexperienced, or she's only witnessed one... part of the entire story. She's stroking her mark now, thinking that it will stimulate movement. Thinking that she will soon have plain evidence of her correctness, she increases the speed and force.

I do not move: her limbs are moving more than enough for two persons, the tempo of her blood travelling quite faster than mine.

_What a... _devastating_ result this will be... for her. _

I can't halt a chuckle. She abruptly stops and stares slightly confused at my amused face. I can almost hear her thinking about the remaining possibilities, except accepting the obvious one: she is wrong.

Her face is neutral again. A new chance. Without an alert, she slams her lips against mine, her tongue swiftly invading my mouth, the movements betraying that she does _has_ experience. A lot of experience. I can barely stop myself from carrying out an action that I will regret later. Instead, I remain as passive as possible, considering the _very _unfortunate circumstances.

I have expected she would do this: if one method does not work, one will use another one, hoping that the chosen action will have more success.

I almost praise myself that the uneven stones aren't littered with another layer of dirt. But I do not know how many seconds are left until I _do _stain the vicinity. She is very... persistent and assertive.

One thing that _could _work, I will _never _use. The chance that it will succeed is too small, and I will never forgive myself if I do it. I have no need to splash another stain on myself.

The other possibility... is impossible. But the mere mention alone causes very uncomfortable sensations.

"Damn it!" she exclaims, after ripping her lips from mine.

She swallows soundly and stares angrily at me, her feelings finally appearing on her face, tainting it, but the natural fairness and charm still proudly shine through. I see now why she's a capable woman. She's irresistible for most and have conquered many, have _felt_ many. She must have thought that I am an easy prey. For how can I, with this kind of fashion, air and face, possibly refuse a lady of such standards?

"You still refuse to believe me?" I calmly ask, subtly cleaning my mouth with a small, almost invisible movement of the wand.

She holds my face with both her hands, and examines my eyes after bringing her face too close to mine again. Her stare is penetrating, sensual. Yes, this is her best weapon – her last resort, also? – to use to persuade her prey and preparing them for the next step.

This too familiar colour... so flawless. So beautiful. A powerful weapon, for it causes my mind to go in a dream-like state. So easily distracted I've become: one of the few, rare negative influences on me.

"Who am I reminding you of?" she quietly whispers. Her breath barely grazing me.

I only show a small smile, still seeing two faces.

"Not your wife, you are not married," she says, her face and eyes descending for a small moment, as if my boots are holding the secret answer.

"Not a lover, you don't seem to be in love," she continues, her accusing glare resting on the place that has offended her, apparently.

My smile widens, a tiny fraction. She does not notice.

"A family member perhaps?" she asks, her stare lancing my glance.

She huffs, when she only hears herself talking, hears no one answering her.

"Sister, niece, best girlfriend?" she guesses.

I broaden my smile: a rare occurrence that someone is witnessing this, besides him.

"Why this sudden interest?"

"I want to know," she says, her eyes a pleading stare. Her hands are creasing the front of my cloak too much.

This unfamiliar sight makes the familiar image disappear, and I only see her handsome face. This isn't amusing me any more. I smoothly disentangle myself from her, but do not take a step back. Not yet.

"I _want _to know," she repeats, not moving to press herself against me, but still standing close enough that I hear her deep breathing very clearly.

As always, hesitation and cautiousness wrap around all thoughts. But a small hint will not endanger me. Besides, she will not leave, unless I've answered this question.

"A person who's... very dear to me."

"But _who_?" she presses.

My nose inhales fresh air, and cool air grazes my face. _No matter how frantically a _very _small part wants to whisper this to you, to shout to everyone I know, I cannot tell you, I cannot tell a word._

"Not important," I brusquely answer, swiftly evading her body and purposefully march away, ignoring her words to stop me.

I hear my own steps and glance, once again, at the sombre buildings, at the lone road. A sound of metal against brick reaches my ears. I imagine her shocked, confused face, and her brain trying to solve why I've given her this much, why I have even given her, her _reward._ After all, she hasn't done anything. Much more time and energy will be needed.

The identity isn't important to her. By now, she has likely spotted a new victim, or they have found her. My face she has already forgotten, thrown away to the small pile of the lowest value. Tomorrow, nothing in her life will be changed. Perhaps a few more marks, the perfume mingled with other, natural smells. She will continue what she has attempted to do with me. But she will succeed, the next time. She will survive.

She will not believe me, even if I've told her. I needed much time until I could believe it myself. Occasionally, I will still wake up and wonder whether this isn't a cruel illusion, a childish utopia.

The identity is important to me, though. It means anything to me. Absolutely everything.

A part of the large burden vanishes, every time I tell this to another person. So far, only a select few know it. Counting the death: plus one.

I regret now that I haven't told her. She's a perfect target for this, actually...

But it doesn't matter now.

Four – or six, depending how I count – is a nice number to reach, isn't it?

* * *

><p><em>This chapter was supposed to be posted sooner, but there were some problems and I ended up writing a whole different chapter, than using the idea I had originally planned... <em>

_Nonetheless, I still hope this chapter has satisfied you! _


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